Sail
by heartbreak in stereo
Summary: Sam gets a tutor, and he doesn't mind going from tutor-tutoree to best friends, but he has a hard time trying to actually ask out Kurt. Kum/Hevans; set to the song Sail.


AN: So, AWOLNATION is my new obsession, particularly with their song Sail, which is what inspired this. I haven't written properly (as in a story, but I've been writing essays fjdskla ;-; ) in months, so I apologize for any errors/how bad it may be. I hope you enjoy it, though.

Pairing: Kum/Hevans, of course.  
>Summary: Set to the song Sail. Sam gets a tutor, and he doesn't mind going from tutor-tutoree to best friends, but he has a hard time trying to actually ask out Kurt.<p>

* * *

><p><em>- i blame it on my a.d.d., baby.<em>

Sam has trouble in English. That is something he'll never be able to get around, thanks to his dyslexia. And going to tutoring—or even just asking for tutoring—is embarrassing because it's English. _Don't you speak English?_ fellow classmates will ask, only half-joking around.

His English III teacher, who can see the discomfort in Sam's demeanor when he asks after class, gives him a look that lasts longer than just a second, making Sam feel a little more uneasy. Running through her roster in her mind, Mrs. Martin asks Sam if he'd be willing to work with someone in her AP Language & Comprehension class, adding on something about how it would be a less formal setting and maybe more comfortable getting the help from somebody who's doing similar material. He shrugs, figuring _why not?_, because he'd be stuck with somebody he wouldn't want to talk to either way (but he doesn't voice that last part).

Smiling, she tells him to be in the library tomorrow during his lunch (first lunch is the one he has), and she'll send his tutor there.

When he's slouched over in the uncomfortable wooden chair, all that Sam can think of is how much he doesn't want to be there and how he doesn't want a tutor and how he doesn't get why if George is so sick of Lenny then why doesn't he just leave him for God's sake. Letting out an exasperated sigh, he shuts Of Mice and Men a little too forcibly and tosses the thin book to the side carelessly.

"That's no way to treat such a piece of literature, Samuel."

Glancing upwards, startled by somebody actually talking to him for the first time the entire period, he sees that Kurt's giving him a playfully chastising look.

"Sorry," Sam mumbles out, albeit with a grin. "I'm just wondering where my tutor's at."

Biting his lower lip briefly, Kurt sits down next to Sam, setting a slightly beat-up binder on the table that has_ AP Lang_ written on it in neat script. Sam's mouth falls open in a small 'o', realization hitting him.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Kurt apologized, a friendly smile on his face.

Maybe tutoring won't be so bad after all.

_- this is how an angel cries._

Sam can see the insincerity behind the smiles Kurt tries to give. He can see how he's trying to hide the jealousy that sparks when Blaine starts talking about how he hung out with Sebastian the other day and how he had so much fun with Sebastian and just when he hears the name Sebastian slip from Blaine's mouth with that dapper smile on his face. Sam can see this in Kurt, because it's the same false smile he gives when Kurt mentions Blaine to him after they're finished with tutoring (well, it's not so much tutoring anymore as much as it is a friend helping out a friend before just hanging out).

These observations are only something Sam keeps to himself, though.

It doesn't become something he voices until a nondescript day, when he's in the motel on his own, sitting on the floor as he reads The Crucible and waits for Stevie and Stacy to get home. He's not really reading, though, as much as he is hoping Tituba doesn't get the blame for the girls being "bewitched" because she seems like she's just getting the short end of the stick for no reason. His pondering is interrupted, though, with a brief banging on the door before Kurt walks in, his face flushed and tears on his cheeks.

Sam can barely scramble to his feet or ask what's wrong, because a few heartbeats after Kurt walks in he says plainly, "He cheated on me."

Stunned, Sam just blinks stupidly for a second or so before Kurt closes the space between the two, throwing his arms around Sam as he lets out a sob, hiding his tear-stained face in the blonde's gray baseball tshirt. Sam puts his arms around Kurt's shoulders, as if to shield him from any other hurt that could go his way.

Sam never liked Blaine, and sure, he looked for excuses to continue his repulsion of the former Warbler, but he never had a genuine reason to call him a bad guy.

But, now he did.

"You deserve so much better," he says to Kurt in a soft, comforting tone. _Even if that means it won't be me_, he adds silently.

_- maybe i'm a different breed._

Sam knows he's not the smartest person ever, but it's days like these where he just feels like a fucking _moron_.

He doesn't remember to change or shower or even what time it is, because he nearly stumbles into the wall when he jumps to his feet when the door opens, revealing Kurt with the two younger Evans children with faltering smiles as they see Sam in his breaking state.

"Get ready for bed, kids," Kurt tells them quietly, holding Sam's gaze with hardly a blink. He holds the door open, and Sam gets the message and has to refrain from just pushing past Kurt. He takes in a deep breath, the fresh air filling his lungs but not giving him the familiar feeling of relief or tranquility.

Kurt knows not to push Sam to talk, so he simply waits in silence as Sam lets out a sob, shuffling over to the steps and sitting, holding his face in his hands. The brunette places a hand on Sam's back, rubbing small circles, remembering that Sam once told him his mom used to do so when he was sick or sad when he was a kid. He doesn't particularly like the smell of grease and old pizza Sam has, but he knows he'll adjust in a few minutes, like always.

Breathing deeply, Sam's hands are trembling as he finally looks up, but not at Kurt, spitting out the words, "I'm a fucking idiot."

Kurt's taken aback, but quickly responds, "No, you're not."

"Don't lie to me, Kurt," Sam laughs cynically. "I know I am. I'm a fucking dumbass—even my boss thought so."

Pursing his lips, Kurt puts two and two together and nods, knowing they're getting somewhere. "What happened?" he asks carefully, aware he's walking on thin ice.

"I got fired," the blonde replies simply, a bitter tone prominent. "I read the names of the addresses wrong, and it's not the first time it happened, but I mean, I've only done it before like once or twice, but it doesn't matter because my boss wasn't happy and he told me to reapply when I stop being so fucking stupid." His lip is quivering again as he tries taking in another deep breath, but he's wringing his hands and he feels so fucking dumb for messing up on something so _easy_ and he just wonders why he can't be fucking _normal_ like everybody else, because dammit, it's not fucking _fair_.

Kurt doesn't know what to do, but he's getting antsy himself with how restless Sam's getting, so he moves the hand from Sam's back to his hands, taking a gentle hold of one of the blonde's larger hands in his own. The brunette is thankful it's dark out because he's blushing as he notices he likes how easily Sam's hand fits in his own and how he likes the feel of the calloused skin from weight-lifting and guitar against his own smooth skin.

Sam finally looks at Kurt, with red cheeks of his own, still taking deep breaths as his heart is now racing for another reason. Kurt thinks for a moment, and his voice is soft but sincere as he breaks the silence this time. "Samuel Evans, you are not stupid," he states, as if it's a textbook fact, because it is. "You have dyslexia, so you have trouble with some things, but everybody struggles with something. But that doesn't make you dumb. You're one of the smartest people I know—you always know what to say or do, and you handle situations better than anybody else I know." Chewing the inside of his cheek for a moment, he glances down at their hands, and then back up again at Sam's bloodshot, watery green eyes. "You're _so_ smart, Sam. You just don't realize it."

Sam's crying again, but this time, he doesn't feel like such an idiot. He doesn't want to say anything to ruin the moment, so he just hugs Kurt instead.

_- sail with me._

Stacy is incredibly observant, despite Sam's many playful jabs at how she's an oblivious goober. She can see how Sam is ten times happier when Kurt's around, and how comfortable the two are around one another, and she can especially see how Sam looks at Kurt when he doesn't think anyone else is looking at them.

So, like any little kid, she asks Sammy, "When are you going to tell Kurt you love him?"

Sam flushed the deepest shade of red he thinks he's ever turned, and doesn't have a response to the little girl for once. So he settles for, "Finish your homework, Stacy."

Despite his response (or lack thereof), her question was something he's been asking himself for a while now.

He's comfortable in calling Kurt his best friend, so his first thought would to do something extravagant and romantic because that's what Kurt fantasizes about. But Sam's not good at over-the-top, and he's a cheesy romantic, not the smooth-talker Kurt would swoon for.

Singing a song in glee seemed like another good idea, but what if Kurt didn't realize it was for him? What if he didn't interpret it the way Sam would intend? What if the public display would scare him off?

Not quite sure how to approach the situation, he figured he'd just try and be straightforward and plainly ask him out like a normal person.

But when he walked with Kurt outside of the motel room to say goodbye after a night of reading over some of the Scarlett Letter, he wasn't sure how he managed to lose his voice so quickly, but he couldn't find any way to speak to the brunette without stumbling over his words.

Kurt, a confused smile in place, put his hand on Sam's shoulder and asked playfully, "You alright, Sam? You don't usually get this flustered unless I bring over food from that Chinese place you love so much."

Only feeling the warmth from Kurt's hand and only seeing Kurt in front of him, Sam managed to forget how to filter words between his brain and his mouth because he spoke without thinking of what was being said until after it was out in the open.

"I want to take you on date."

The smile on Kurt's face fell, and he pulled his hand back to himself, rendered speechless for a moment. "Sam," he was quiet, and curt, "I know you want to get me back for that amazing prank I helped Stevie pull on you, but this is just a little on the douche side."

"No, Kurt, I—" he was hardly giving a chance to speak, because Kurt was already turning away to walk back to his car. Sam was quick, though, and grabbed Kurt's arm and spun him back around, and since he's already possibly fucked things up with Kurt he figured he'd go all out and pulled Kurt towards him so their lips met.

Sam didn't expect Kurt to reciprocate at first, if at all, but he was relieved when he felt Kurt's lips finally move back against his own. The kiss was short-lived, though, when they broke apart, looking at each other with flushed cheeks and swollen lips and wide eyes.

"I like you, Kurt," Sam murmured, licking his lips. "..a lot. And I really want to take you out—if you want, I mean. It'd be to like, the park, though. I'd have taken you to maybe Breadstix but after—"

"Sam." Sam shut up instantly as Kurt spoke up, a small smile growing on his face. He mimicked Sam's motions and thought for a moment, before leaning in to kiss the corner of Sam's mouth, and saying, "It's a date."


End file.
